Surviving: A Maximum Ride Fanfiction
by InfiniteShipper
Summary: Post Nevermore. After the earth fought back, Max and the flock settled on the island, and an air of peace came for the first time in Max's memory. Then Dr. Martinez, Ella, and the rest of the humans on the island died. Max could only theorize that the virus her mother had spoken of had been released. It had some nasty side affects. M for zombie slaying goodness and coarse language.
1. Chapter 1

Maximum Ride/ Walking Dead Crossover FanFic

Summary: Post Nevermore. After the earth fought back, Max and the flock settled on the island, and an air of peace came for the first time in Max's memory. Then Dr. Martinez, Ella, and the rest of the humans on the island died. Max could only theorize that the virus her mother had spoken of had been released. It had some nasty side affects. M for zombie slaying goodness, coarse language, and angsty end of the world drama.

A/N: Hi people! I'm new to this site, but this is in no way my first rodeo. I've been writing fanfiction since I was around 11, but I haven't written one in about 2 years. Maximum Ride was my first fanfic, so I'm staying true to my roots and posting my Maximum Ride fiction on here first. One little thing before I get to the story; Max's narration may be a little OOC. The series is written for the general audience of 10-12 year olds, and though I was ten when I started reading the books, I'm not anymore. Max's narration stayed at ten years old, though, so I made her grow up a little. She is at least 16 at this point after all, probably older. However, she'll be her usual snappy sarcastic self, just less mellow dramatic and with more foresight. On to the fic!

Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, James Patterson does. If I owned it, Iggy would be MINE!

Max's Pov:

"Max." Though Fang's trademark monotone is slightly marred with grief, his voice is one of the only sounds capable of pulling out of my dazed state. I blink my tired eyes once and turn away from my mom's corpse to look up at him, not bothering to hide my tear streaked face. If anyone can handle this weepy, emotional side of me, it's Fang. I analyze his face, knowing he will be the last person to vent about his grief. His stoic expression is the antithesis of my mushy one, and his mouth is a grim line, much like it always used to be. This makes me feel even worse. Over the past few weeks I've seen him open up, little by little, but now the mask is back, and though I love Fang's strength, I don't want him hiding from me now.  
"Yeah. I know." Emotional walls or not, it doesn't take much communication between the two of us to convey an idea anymore, just like it always used to be. Well, that's not exactly right. It's not quite like it used to be. We're closer now. The end of the world as we knew it brought all of us closer, gave us all the same unifying cause: Stay alive. It's hard to stay open, though, when all you see is death. Death was not on the agenda.  
Fang is right though; the sun is going to set soon. The time for mourning needs to come to a close, and we need to bury the bodies, before its too late.  
A few feet away, Iggy is kneeling next to Ella's motionless form, his long pale fingers absently stroking her cheek. I've never seen his eyes so empty; right now, he really is blind, lost and staggering with nothing and no one to guide him. He hasn't said a word since my sister was proclaimed dead by one of the mutants trained in medicine, and he's beginning to worry all of us. He has even shut Gazzy out.  
We're in the infirmary room of the underground catacombs. The ceilings are low and the dingy artificial light, curtsey of the monstrous generators, bounces off of the carved stone walls, giving the whole room an eery and unsettling glow. When Nino built this place for us he must have expected a surplus of injuries, because there are quite a few hospital beds and plenty of medical equipment, but the room is still not big enough to house all of the dead and mourning. Regardless, we've all made do so far, but there is no privacy, no little room to go into and cry over a lost loved one, so the cries of pain and despair are not sheltered from any ear in the vicinity. Some of the kids here were raised by the scientists that designed our new home. The few children that passed away are surrounded by friends and siblings. Fang and I have been supporting them since the first tears began to fall. We helped them come to terms, explained what was happening to the ones to young to understand, and helped plan the funerals with those who could.  
There won't be an elaborate funeral procession here, just a few words spoken. We have so much to do, and I'm the official leader now. I'm still too numb to be nervous about that at the present time, too swamped with the here and now. Most of the treetop houses were destroyed when the wave came, and the tunnels weren't built to be a permanent housing situation, not for this long at least. Before, reconstruction fell to the adults, with the rest of us mutants gathering supplies. It definitely wasn't easy; many nights we went to sleep sore, but the process strengthened all of us, and it was nice, building our new lives. It gave us a purpose.  
After a few days, though, Mom got sick, then Ella and Nino. All of the other adults, then a few of the mutants, the ones with less prominent mutations, began contracting the same symptoms; coughing, a rash. It didn't take long for us to realize that the 99% plan was in affect before the meteor hit. We tried everything in our power to stop the infection, but of course it didn't work. They knew it wouldn't work. By the time they began to get the pus filled boils, the adults had told us everything they could about living on the island. Then they prepared a poison, like the real mad scientists that haunt my dreams. The 36 of them drank the whole batch.  
I, the indomitable Maximum Ride, survivor of the end of the world, cried my frigging eyes out. The poison was slow acting, and some died quicker than others. It was hard, letting them all go. Mom was the hardest to loose, though. I'd come to depend on her. I saved her once, but nothing could have saved her this time. It felt as though I was being ripped in two, then shredded further when Ella followed. She went peacefully, one hand entwined with mine, the other clenched tightly around Iggy's. We calmed each other, telling funny stories and making jokes. She was determined to die with a smile on her face, and she did, drifting into an easy sleep before passing on quietly. After everything, at least she got to die surrounded by the ones she loved. That's how I want to go, when the time comes.  
_Don't think about death, Max._ I'm not sure who's voice it is, and I don't care.  
"No! Not so soon!"  
At Iggy's voice I jump to my feet, my right hand going to the dagger that now never leaves my hip. Several heads turn to look at the tall strawberry blonde, knowing and sympathy in their eyes. For a bunch of kids, they all know loss much too well, and a knot ties in my stomach at the grisly task before me. I walk quietly up to Iggy, lightly touching his shoulder to indicate my presence. I've seen some awful things in my life, but I still refuse to look at Ella; I won't be able to maintain my composure any longer, and if that happens we're all done for.  
"Iggy. It's time." Surprisingly, Fang is the one to address him. He pulls Iggy away to murmur soothing words, but I know him well enough to see what he's really doing. In our world where its live or be lunch, Fang is giving me the only gift he can- a chance to say goodbye. So I finally look at my sister.  
Her skin is alabaster pale, a stark contrast to the golden brown complexion I had become used to seeing. Her cheeks are sunken in, and her eyes have dark circles ringing them. I stare at her face for a few moments, swallowing back the tears and the urge to scream and cry and curse at the world.  
After just a moment I look away, unable to handle the dead eyes wheeling about the room, the small movements showing that the carnal part of her brain is active once again. Teeth gnash wildly, fingers begin to twitch  
They had warned us of this too. That they might come back. That death wasn't permanent any longer.  
"You don't have to do it, Max." Fang whispers, wrapping an arm around my waist. I lean against him for support, taking deep, steadying breaths. Iggy has turned to stone, listening to Ella's ragged breaths and the hissing as she smelles living humans.  
"Yes I do, Fang." My voice breaks, betraying my fear as I unsheathe my dagger, turning to my sister._ I have to do this_, I repeat to myself, shifting the grip in my palm.  
The world didn't turn out to be the mutant paradise I had dreamed of. But this is our world now, and I'm going to do everything to ensure that we survive it. This isn't your sister anymore, Max. I'm sure that it's my own voice in my head, just me reassuring myself. I swallow.  
Ella reaches for me, snarling. I sink the blade into her forehead without hesitation.

A/N: Yowch, that was a little more tense and dark than I intended. Please review, but be gentle! I'm still brushing off the cobwebs!


	2. Chapter 2

Surviving: A Maximum Ride Fanfiction. Ch. 2

A/N: Another tense chapter, but after this it should mellow out for a while. Thanks for all the views, but don't forget to review! I LOVE feedback, it helps me write stronger. Max is more in-character now. I'm starting to get used to writing in her POV again. Chapter three will be up quickly because I already have a large chunk written that was meant to be in this chapter but messed with the flow.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns Maximum Ride, not me. If I did Gazzy would be qualified as a weapon of mass destruction.

Ella abruptly falls limp as I pull my dagger from her skull. I stare at her numbly, unable to focus on anything but the thin line of blood oozing down to her nose, but inside I'm thrashing and screaming and falling apart. The rational Max tries to tell me, again, that this wasn't my sister, just a creature living off of her body. Like a crow. Part of my brain catalogues that off for later use, but it's a side too small to matter. The real battle is between that rational side of me, and the side that wants to curl up into a ball in a tree up very high and never come down. It's the side that has been trying to take control lately, when I started having to make all of the decisions, when I became responsible for all of the lives here. It's the side that thinks that I'm not cut out for this, that they have the wrong mutant bird girl. I can lead, sure. But run what's left of the (mostly) human race? That's iffy.

_I just killed my sister. I just killed my sister, and I'm about to have to show my mom the same courtesy_. The realization is a crushing weight on my chest, wiping away all other coherent thought. The dagger slips from my hand, seeming to fall in slow motion before clattering to the smooth stone next to my feet. I take a shuddering breath, my eyes still trained on Ella's face. Ella, not Ella, a thing, my sister, a creature. My hands move to cover my mouth of their own accord and I fight back the hysteria. A strangled sound slips between my fingers.

"Max." In a blissful act of salvation Fang wraps his arms around me and turns me so that my eyes are facing the wall, away from my sister's limp form. The eyes in the room are doubtlessly trained on me, but the thought doesn't quite register. My breath is coming in short gasps, and I realize that if it weren't for Fang's grip under my arms I would collapse. I force myself to blink, my dry eyes stinging. How long had I been staring? I loose another sob, my hands pressing tighter over my mouth, as if to push the offensive sound back in. I struggle against Fang, not knowing why, not knowing why not, until I realize I'm not struggling; Fang is shaking me, and shouting. Shouting at me. I make myself focus on his voice, or I'll think about-

"Look at me, Max, dammit!" One of his hands go to my chin, firmly but not roughly jerking my head to stare into his impossibly dark eyes, except he has four, because mine are still unfocused, still away.

"Max!" He yells again. His voice breaks, and that's what pulls me out of my daze.

I'm scaring Fang. I'm scaring _Fang_.

"I-I'm sorry, Fang." I stutter. My tongue feels thick, like its covered in cotton, and my body had become stiff as a board. I make each individual muscle relax, trying to show him that I really am in charge, but my jaw is still taut, holding back the wordless sobs and alien sounds I had made before. _I'm a leader now. I shouldn't act like this. _

Fang's eyes are clouded with worry as they search my face, and I know he isn't fooled by my seemingly calm expression. He knows that I'm about one plumb short from a fruitcake right now, and this room is suffocating me with it's hospital smell and sardine can closeness. I need out, but I don't trust myself to say so. I don't have to. He knows.

"Dylan." Fang's voice is short and carries age old distrust, but Dylan immediately leaves the group of grieving children he was assisting to come to us, weaving through the mutants and bodies. I just gaze blankly at Fang, uncomprehending as an old boot. He maneuvers his arms so that one is supporting my waist and the other is free, and though he's carrying most of my weight to anyone else I look as though I'm standing just fine. Despite my whirling thoughts I can't help but be touched that he's putting so much effort into preserving what's left of my dignity and image. I try to give him a hand and pull myself together, attempting to not look like the emotional mush I feel like. Dylan reaches us and gives Fang a questioning glance.

"What's up, Fang?" His movie star face is lined with grief and exhaustion, and I know I must be ten times worse. Big whoop.

"Max and I need to finish with the funeral arrangements." Oh. Smart. Fang is just my regular knight in shining armor today, seeing as how I'm turning out to be the weepy damsel in distress all the time lately.

"Can you... Deal with everything in here?" Fang asks, his voice low. I know he means put down the rest of the bodies; the room is starting to come alive with the sounds of the reanimating corpses. But I appreciate his discretion.

"Of course, man." He gives me a sympathetic look and I decide not to punch his lights out for it, partly because he's helping me out. But mostly because he'll just heal himself with his super-spit and half the fun of punching people in the face is laughing at the black eye later. Fang leads me through the back exit of the infirmary, right out into the open air. He turns away from me to shut the door and seal the airtight valve, his arm leaving my waist for the two-handed job. My knees wobble and I realize just how much I was depending on him to support me. He turns back to me a moment later, his expression obviously worried. I wonder if other people have noticed that he actually has had expressions lately, or if it's just me.

He reaches out to wipe a stray tear from my cheek, his fingers unbearably gentle, as if I'll shatter. I give him my best attempt at a smile, but it must suck because his brow furrows and he holds his arms out slightly, a silent invitation that I gratefully accept, melting against his chest. I breath in his scent deeply as he wraps his arms around me and presses his lips to the top of my head. We stay like that for several minutes, neither of us saying anything or needing to. His warmth fortifies me, builds me up until I'm sure I'll be okay, that I'll make it through this like anything else, so long as I have him with me.

00000000000

"Thanks for having my back in there." I say after a while. We're now sitting down now, leaning against the cool metal door and listening to the island birds sing. The setting sun has painted everything in hues of red and orange, and we've taken a moment to enjoy the view. I'm nestled against his side and he has both arms around me protectively. He's been solid as a rock for me throughout this whole ordeal, and I think he deserves to hear me say "thank you". As long as he doesn't get used to it.

I hear his chest rumble as he laughs softly, as if he's reading my mind. Who knows, maybe he can. Stranger things have happened.

"Always, Max."

A/N: How very fluffy that ending was! I'm a sucker for Fax, always have been, but I'm not a Dylan hater. I'll probably create a girlfriend for him, unless my reader(s?) think he should be forever alone...


End file.
